


Application

by camakitsune



Category: Super Smash Brothers, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Gen, Heavy liberties taken with young link, attempted humor, it's short anyway and i hate giving away the whole fic in the summary, shrug emoji, the mortal draw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 18:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17834195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camakitsune/pseuds/camakitsune
Summary: Link wants to fight his own way, but his grandpa yells at him to apply his training. (Twilight Princess Link instead of Breath of the Wild Link)





	Application

**Author's Note:**

> As indicated by tags/summary, 1.) I replaced botw link with tp link here for reasons, and 2.) don't take young link's abilities here too seriously.
> 
> Hopefully you agree this is exactly the kind of dynamic they would have, if young link wasn't _just_ a spooky ghost armor trapped in a rock

It was nothing short of a cruel joke to invite both Link and his predecessor to the same Smash tournament. That the Hero of Time, for now dubbed with the cutesier tournament name “Young Link,” never said a peep about it until they saw each other at the opening ceremonies was also cruel. Knowing him, it was definitely intentional and definitely not a joke.

Somehow, the knowledge of the tournament being for sport only worsened the pressure on Link’s shoulders. If he didn’t take it seriously and lost, Young Link would know and judge him irresponsible at best, and at worst, fail to notice and conclude that Link is actually “that bad.” And if Link lost giving a sincere effort, the situation circled back to the latter problem.

But this moment of truth served as the only first impression he had to make on his mentor since the last time they trained. Perhaps he had already displayed a lack of focus in looking away from the replica of a crumbled Hylian temple to locate Young Link. Once, his eyes paused on a green spot in the audience, but it was only that short kid also named Link who had taken part in the last two tournaments. Link still didn’t know the kid’s connection to him and his mentor. If Young Link did, he never volunteered the knowledge.

Link watched the two of them in their inaugural bout. His eye was still in training just as much as the rest of him, but he picked up on how reactively Young Link had fought. It was a far cry from the brutality he was capable of, as if merely sizing up Toon Link. Wandering the concessions vendors afterward, the two could have easily been mistaken for a couple of spectating kids blowing their missing chaperone’s cash on whatever forms of deep-fried sugar they could find.

As his opponent for the match flew in on dragon-like wings with teeth and claws bared, he finally located Young Link. The child hero sidled toward Toon Link across seated audience members, looking satisfied with the golden battered somethings-on-a-stick he carried in each hand. Link ceased trying to split his attention and focused on the battlefield.

“Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats for the next matchup! Here we have the Hero of Twilight, Link!”

He didn’t bother wondering whether Young Link joined in the audience applause.

“Facing,” the announce continued, “the Cunning God of Death himself, R-r-r-r-idley!”

“He gets in your head,” Young Link had told him before about the mysterious participant. “Then he’ll probably keep attacking after he’s won, until they make him stop the fight. Beat him fast or not at all.”

Link took the little bit of insight gratefully, though he wasn’t quite sold on that _specific_ thing his mentor intended whenever he mentioned defeating someone quickly.

But before he let Link go, he folded his arms and said, “You understand,” – not asked, but said. Or more accurately, demanded. Link did his damnedest to not look away when he nodded.

At the time, a small part of Link still just wanted to believe that Young Link was just incapable of calming down, even for a tournament. But a name like “Cunning God of Death” probably wasn’t one earned with honorable tactics and merciful endings.

“Fighters, meet and shake hands,” the announcer instructed.

Link stepped forward. Ridley remained in place for several moments. Certainly, both he and Young Link would be ready to tear Link apart at the first sign of uncertainty in his gait.

Once Link was a few paces short of center, Ridley snorted and shot forward, wings wide. Link stood firm against the obvious attempt to unnerve him, and he held his hand forward as instructed. Just shy of colliding with him, Ridley came to a stop on all fours. The bony dragon smiled, or bared his teeth.

“I saw the little boys fight earlier,” he said to Link. “Who are they? Your kid brothers?”

Link indicated his disapproval with a frown and nudged his hand forward. Ridley lifted himself to his feet in a slumped-over stance that wasn’t at all how Link expected a monster of massacre to stand. As he wrapped a cool, bumpy set of claws around Link’s hand, he continued, “My congrats to the winner. It’s a shame I can’t play with them both, but if I had my pick, I definitely would have gone for the noisy one.” He released Link’s hand. “He’ll be all the more fun after he’s watched me humiliate you here.”

“Fighters,” the announcer called. “Return to position.”

Link was burning when he turned around. From the distant stands, Young Link watched him, his expression having gone gravely serious since the last time Link spotted him.

Link let the observation pass into his attention and pass right back out. Ridley had already demonstrated his speed, and his flight was going to be an issue if Link couldn’t shoot him out of the air. He drew his sword and readied his shield on his arm as he returned to his starting location. One thing was certain: he was going to need to go for Ridley as aggressively as possible. If not because of his speed, then because he deserved it after those comments. Secret techniques be damned.

The fighters faced one another. Link settled into a battle stance in preparation.

“Ready?” the annoucner called.

“Go!” Link could hear him follow up in time in his mind. But the sound of start never came. To the contrary, the announcer and the audience came to an unnaturally hard silence. Ridley was crouched in front of him, ready to dart forward or take to the air. But on closer inspection, he was completely frozen in place.

No. Not this.

An ethereal fog built up all around Link, until all he could see was swirling shades of white, consuming all of the battlefield, the audience, the fighters themselves.

In the endless fog, a beacon of red appeared. Link couldn’t contain his groan. The shape of an enormous helmeted skull faded in through the fog, filling most of Link’s field of view, the red deepening in the socket of one eye.

“It seems I wasn’t clear enough when I told you to defeat him quickly,” came the skull’s old, reprimanding voice.

“Not now,” Link tried.

“When? After you’ve lost the battle and made a mockery of your own hard work? Then will it be the time to learn to use the hidden skills? Or do you still falter on the battlefield at the thought of shedding your frightened reflexes?”

Link’s gaze wandered sideways as he took a breath. “It’ll only work one time anyway.”

“And this is the time to use it. That creature is not a thoughtless monster. Your state of mind is a weapon to him, and so must his become a weapon for you. The more time you waste with him, the deeper he’ll dig into your mind.”

“I can handle it.”

The red eyehole flashed brighter, redder , angrier. “Fight as you wish then. I see that some lessons can only be learned from firsthand failure.”

Link set his jaw and remained silent. The talking skull and ghostly fog vanished in a flash, and his surroundings were once again as they should have been: present, noisy, moving, breathing.

But two short bellows of an air horn signaled the false start to the battle. Cameras stayed trained on fighters from the moment they stepped to fight, until the official end of each bout. No doubt, they had caught some unnatural skip in the placement of Link’s limbs and head that tipped off staff to the time pause.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called out. “We remind you that any spectators with an affinity for _time_ , including tournament participants, found to interfere during a fight risk being banned from this and all future tournaments.”

The audience’s usual din softened to confused murmurs. (And perhaps, some knowing murmurs.)

“With that reminder, fighters!” the booming voice resumed. “Ready? Go!”

As expected, Ridley took to the air at the first call of the battle’s start. Link observed how he moved in the air, how he positioned his limbs when he landed on a broken temple spire. He gathered a fiery breath to blow at Link, who hopped out of the way with his eyes fixed on his opponent.

“Got cold feet, boy?” Ridley taunted from his perch.

Link gave a grudging hiss in his throat. He returned his shield to his back, and he placed his sword in its sheath. Standing tall to meet the next attack without flinching, he only answered, “Someone warned me about you.”

Ridley made a derisive snort. “Did they? In that case…” He spread his wings and roared. “There’s only one way to forfeit now.”

He darted down to Link at full speed, mouthful of teeth and cruel claws once again on display. Link swallowed down the urge to react – to draw a weapon, or roll, or to shield.

And then he saw it: that fatal moment, that tiny, vulnerable window as Ridley raised his arm high to slam back down.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like a young link that can phase between being a normal(ish), selectively mute boy, and appearing to twilink as a spooky, eloquent skelly man. also using this ability when he's pissed at twilink.
> 
> finally, the mortal draw is such an unnecessarily extra technique and is one of many reasons i love the hero of time.
> 
> I thought this stupid idea was funny and decided to make it a fic instead of two short twitter posts. Leave a comment or kudos if you thought so too


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